


fascination

by poisonpeaches



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: (not much though), Armpit Kink, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, Licking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonpeaches/pseuds/poisonpeaches
Summary: Kira never noticed it before, but there's a specific part of Yamato's body that he finds oddly attractive.
Relationships: Hyuuga Yamato/Sumeragi Kira
Kudos: 12





	fascination

**Author's Note:**

> not much to be said here, i just have an embarrassing pit fetish and a slightly less embarrassing obsession with yamato hyuga. i also really love yamakira so this fic was pretty much destined to happen. if you couldn’t tell by now this fic is very pit-fetish-centric so you may not vibe with it if you’re not into armpits, but it’s also EXTREMELY tame compared to some of my other works so if you’re just a curious reader, by all means go for it! it probably won’t scar you for life or anything, i promise.  
> anyways, enough of my rambling. please enjoy yamato's hot armpits and kira being stupidly infatuated with them  
> (p.s. nothing that happens in this fic is as sexy as that perfectly even word count OOOOOO look how satisfying!)

Kira loves watching Yamato sleep.

He always looks so calm and peaceful in the middle of a nap, his face muscles completely relaxed in the absence of the frown he usually wears. Kira’s favorite part of it, though, is that Yamato never wears a shirt to bed, not even when he’s just taking a nap in the middle of the day. It gives Kira the chance to appreciate his body, his eyes traveling over every inch of muscle on the larger man’s robust form, without Yamato getting embarrassed or noticing.

Right now, the blonde is lying on his back, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach. His lips are slightly parted, his chest rumbling with heavy snores as he sleeps - a sound that had once annoyed Kira to no end, but that he has since grown desensitized to after having shared a bed with him for so long. There’s something about Yamato, though - something that Kira had never taken any particular notice of before. Yamato’s lack of clothing leaves his torso completely exposed, and the stretched-out arm behind his head is putting his armpit on full display.

Kira inches closer, his eyes transfixed on the space between Yamato’s bicep and his rib cage. The tiniest sprouts of green-blonde hair are emerging from the otherwise smooth skin, so pale that they blend in with the rest of him. Yamato’s body is gorgeous, head to toe. Kira loves his thick thighs, his bulky chest, his rugged arms, his defined ass and the ridges in his abdomen. He loves all of Yamato, this he knows. But he has never in his life paid any particular attention to Yamato’s armpits - or anyone’s armpits, in general. Have they always looked that attractive?

Before Kira realizes it, his hand is hovering over Yamato’s bare underarm. The hollows are deep, the contours in them blatantly apparent, and the skin is glistening with sweat from his earlier workout (and from his, erm, _second_ workout with Kira). Pale fingers tremble. He always says he knows Yamato’s body like the back of his hand, but this is an area he can’t recall ever touching, or even having looked at from this minimal a distance. _Why does he want to touch them so badly?_

Sharply inhaling through his lips, Kira lowers his fingers, gently brushing them across the buttery contours of skin. Soft. Moist. Warm. A little bit fuzzy. Yamato stirs, but doesn’t wake. Kira bites his lip, flinching back a little bit. He notices something - despite being right next to Yamato, and despite the other man being practically drenched in sweat, he can sense no odor coming from him. As a matter of fact, Yamato rarely ever smells unpleasant. Is that normal, for a man who spends nearly every waking hour at the gym?

Kira can’t help himself - he lowers his nose to the center of Yamato’s armpit, and sucks in a long stream of breath from his nose.

The musk of his sweat is subtle, but it’s definitely there. It mingles with the scent of his deodorant, culminating in a smoky, almost cinnamon-like aroma that, for whatever reason, triggers a tingly feeling in the pits of Kira’s stomach.

This, unfortunately, ends up being the action that finally rouses the other man from his slumber. Yamato groans, shifting a bit against the mattress before lifting his eyelids. Embarrassed, Kira dips his head down to rest it against one of Yamato’s generous pecs.

“Mm…” Amber irises flit down to rest on Kira, who’s hiding a reddening face in the comfort of Yamato’s chest. “Hi.” A massive hand comes around the back of Kira’s head, huge fingers idly playing with sleek raven hair. “You were staring at me in your sleep again, weren’t you.”

The corners of Kira’s mouth twitch up slightly. At least he has something to chalk up his embarrassment to. “How can I… stop myself?” he whispers, fingers tracing abstract shapes and patterns into the parts of Yamato’s chest that aren’t covered by his head. “You have… a beautiful body… Yamato.”

Yamato chuckles at this, his chest lightly shaking with the sound, which Kira can feel. “You’re not too bad yourself.” A hand trails down Kira’s back, curving around the base of his spine, one of Kira’s erogenous zones. The pianist shudders under his boyfriend’s touch.

“Yamato… have I ever… told you…”

Yamato quirks a brow at him. “Huh?”

Kira gulps, and stops all his movements for a moment. “… Have I ever told you that you have very attractive underarms?”

He says it with such conviction, such dignity and clarity, that it even surprises himself. Yamato’s brows push towards each other - the face he makes indicates that he wasn’t expecting the comment, for sure, but he doesn’t look particularly bothered or shocked by it, either.

“Uh, no, you haven’t.” He repositions himself, now placing both his arms behind his head, and Kira bites his lip. “Thanks? I think?”

Kira moves closer. He can’t tear his eyes away from them, not even when the rest of Yamato’s incredibly brawny frame is on full display, not even when the other man is looking up at him so lovingly. He isn’t sure what it is about them that he finds so alluring, nor why it took him this long to notice it. All he knows is that he’s caught only a trace of them, and he craves _more_.

“Can I… touch them…?”

Yamato’s face crinkles into more confusion, but he can’t think of any reason why he should be opposed to it. “I mean, sure. I guess. If you want.”

Kira is straddling Yamato’s toned thighs suddenly, his hands just centimeters away from the sinewy recesses of Yamato’s armpits. The larger man’s breath hitches when they finally make contact. Kira’s tongue slides along his lower lip briefly; then, he starts to stroke them gingerly, his fingertips just barely skating over the sweat-damp skin with the hesitation and gentleness of someone handling a precious artifact.

Even these feather-light touches alone are enough to send a shiver eddying up Yamato’s spine. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck erect, and he gulps thickly. “K-Kira…”

It’s then that the pianist begins to apply more pressure. Precise fingertips sink into the moist skin like a baker kneading dough. He notices Yamato’s teeth digging into his lower lip, and his face breaking out into a shade of vermillion when his hands continue to travel around the area. When he swivels his thumbs in a spiral around the center of Yamato’s underarms, the blonde releases a yelp that he can’t bite back. Kira removes his hands, face alight with concern.

“Ah…” Yamato peers up at him sheepishly once he realizes Kira has caught notice of his little outburst. “Sorry. I’m, uh, actually kinda ticklish there.”

Kira can’t fight the smirk that passes over his features. He returns his fingers to the flush skin, this time curling them and dragging his nails along the smooth hollows. Airy giggles bubble up from Yamato’s throat before growing into something heavier. He doesn’t get to hear Yamato laugh like that often, and he can say he thoroughly enjoys it.

“K-Kira - pfft - wahahait-” He barks out a laugh when Kira’s fingers find an especially tender spot. “NOHOHO! Pffthaha!”

“Cute,” the pianist muses, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Huh?”

A blush creeps its way across Kira’s cheeks as he realizes that he’s spoken out loud. Though embarrassed, he doesn’t try to deny it. He bends down to place a kiss just at the top of Yamato’s rib cage - had he moved any higher, his lips would have brushed the spot he’d been torturing just seconds ago.

“You are very cute, Yamato,” he whispers, his words coming out in hot puffs of breath that caress the flush skin. Goosebumps spread across Yamato’s body, most likely a combination of both the feeling of Kira’s breath ghosting against his skin, and the words being spoken to him.

Yamato averts his gaze, heat rising in his cheeks. His eyebrow is twitching, his lips pursed - Kira knows this look, it’s the one he puts on when he’s trying to hide his arousal. A knowing smile eclipses Kira’s chiseled features.

“You liked that?”

Yamato gulps thickly. “Maybe.”

Kira playfully tickles him again, and Yamato squirms beneath him. “N- _No_! Kirahaha! I-I didn’t like _this_ par- _khahahaha_!”

“I know,” Kira chuckles before his fingers slow to a stop, only to be replaced by his lips. Tiny, delicate kisses rain down all over Yamato’s bare armpit, coating the sweat-covered skin in the faintest kiss marks, little glittery dots of saliva indicating that Kira has been there. Yamato’s laughter tapers off into a soft sigh of rapture that catches in his throat as soon as Kira’s lips reach the center.

Experimentally, Kira’s tongue slithers out from between his parted lips and flicks against the tiny plot of skin.

The little gasp Yamato lets out is so rewarding that it gives Kira the courage to open his mouth wide and let his tongue fall out of his mouth fully, placing it against his defined underarm and dragging it upwards, slowly, roughly. The peach fuzz dotting Yamato’s skin rubs against Kira’s tongue, giving it a texture reminiscent of sandpaper. He tastes salty, the slightest bit bitter from the deodorant, but it’s not even remotely unpleasant.

When Kira pulls back, Yamato’s eyes are bolted onto the ceiling, the most dazed, far-off look on his face. His breathing is labored, and the telltale sparkle of arousal is swimming in his citrine irises. Kira smiles.

“Did that feel nice?” he whispers, caressing his jaw lovingly.

“Y-Yeah…” Yamato chokes out, still not looking at him.

The paler man smiles again before moving over, repeating the process on the second one.

“You taste so good, Yamato…” he purrs. His voice is dripping with sultriness, melting from his soft pink lips, and Yamato’s skin is on fire, his boxers growing tighter beneath him.

“I can’t stop looking at them,” Kira mumbles, his words becoming muffled as he buries his face deeper into the hollows of Yamato’s pits. “I can’t stop wanting to touch them… to taste them…”

With one hand still using Yamato’s armpit as its personal playground, Kira trails his free hand down the athlete’s bare chest, across his well-defined abs and finally coming to rest at the space between his legs, where a noticeable bulge has formed. Kira gives the lump a playful squeeze. “… You’re turned on,” he mutters flatly, as if he needed to state the blatantly obvious.

“No shit,” Yamato snorts. “It’s not exactly like you’ve got a limp dick right now, either.” To prove his point, he brings his fingers to stroke the hardened length outlined in Kira’s boxers, eliciting a moan from the smaller man.

“Lemme help you out with that, yeah?” He lightly pushes Kira so that the other idol is sitting upright perpendicular to him. The lopsided grin plastered to the blonde’s face says it all. Not only is he not harshly judging this newfound - and, admittedly, _completely_ out of left-field - fetish of Kira’s, but he’s actually _embracing_ it, indulging Kira and letting him explore it to the fullest. Kira is usually the one to take control in these types of moments, anyways, but never like this, and the way Yamato is looking at Kira so sweetly makes the pianist feel soft inside, but there’s also a part of him that’s the complete opposite of soft right now and it desperately needs attention.

“Yamato,” Kira breathes as his normally dexterious hands clumsily find the waistband of his underwear. “Keep your arms up. I want to see them.”

Yamato instantly understands. He nods vigorously, reverting back to his earlier position with his arms forming a triangle behind his head. Kira isn’t sure what comes first - the flutter in his chest, or the twitch in his boxers, but he definitely feels them both.

Kira peels off his boxers, discarding them onto the floor once he pulls them down past his bare feet. His cock dances in admiration for Yamato, who is glaring at him hungrily. Wordlessly, Kira flips positions so that each of his knees is firmly planted into the mattress on either side of Yamato’s head, his twitching erection floating just inches above the athlete’s mouth.

“Open up.”

Yamato opens his mouth wide, as if he’s trying to unhinge his jaw. Kira is stuffing himself into the open cavity within milliseconds, not even giving the larger man ample time to prepare himself. He gags at first, but grows used to the feeling at a rather fast pace, his mouth closing around Kira’s length with ease. When he begins to suck, Kira feels his muscles turn to jelly, all feelings of guilt for forcing himself into Yamato’s mouth so quickly almost immediately exorcised from him.

Yamato’s tongue sweeps broad circles around the length of Kira’s stiff member. The smaller man tosses his head back in ecstasy, quickly snapping it back down when he remembers why he’s in this position in the first place. His hands return to the sensitive crevices of Yamato’s underarms. His touches are no longer the tender caresses from earlier, this time burrowing his fingers in, pinching and pulling the buttery skin, raking them with his nails hard like a cat playing with a curtain. Tiny red streaks appear in their wake. Yamato’s eyes are erratically snapping open and fluttering back closed, each noise of pleasure he makes lost with Kira in his mouth. He never thought being touched there could feel so good, so _erotic_ , but yet -

It’s so good that Yamato, beside himself, adds his teeth into the mix, gently nibbling Kira’s throbbing member. Kira gasps - then, pressing his palms harder into his underarms, begins to thrust his hips, effectively stabbing the back of Yamato’s throat with the head of his anguished cock.

“D-Damn it,” he stammers as Yamato takes more of him into his throat, his gaze frozen on his pits. “I don’t… I can’t take my eyes off them.”

Yamato wiggles desperately - he clearly wants to move his arms, to touch Kira, to feel him, but Kira pins him to the bedframe by the elbows. He doesn’t want to lose sight of them for a second. 

“They’re… they’re so beautiful,” he chokes out. At first he had thought maybe it was just a Yamato thing, maybe it had nothing to do with the armpits, but nope, now he's sure that it's _definitely_ a thing with the armpits and perhaps it’s only because they’re Yamato’s armpits, maybe he’ll never find another pair of armpits this prepossessing again in his entire life but they’re so _sexy_ and Yamato is all warm suction beneath his hips and _fuck_ , Kira can’t remember the last time he has been this turned on, by anything, ever.

With a well-placed teasing lick against his frenulum, Kira is done for. But in contrast to their usual routine, he doesn’t want to finish in Yamato’s mouth. He taps the side of Yamato’s face, gentle yet demanding, and Yamato lets him go, pulling off of him with a wet, lingering suck that makes a small “pop.”

Nursing his shaft in his slender hand, Kira aims it at Yamato, and releases all over the inner corners of his blushing underarm. It comes out in a short, fast spurt, not the usual long streams that flow from him gracefully, but there’s a lot of it. Even the noise he makes is a stark contrast to his usual melodious cries, a high-pitched, strained wince of pleasure that seems like it’s being squeezed out of him by some unseen force.

He leans back to admire his work - a dazed, adrenaline-high Yamato, dark red in the face and lightly panting to catch his breath. Kira wants to drink in the sight of it, but quickly remembers that he needs to clean up the mess he made. He tilts his head down and, without a moment’s hesitation, begins planting light, copious lashes of his tongue all over Yamato’s armpit to wash him of his seed.

The licking is now more rapid, hungrier, as Kira laps up his own cum, and Yamato finds the motion more ticklish than pleasurable. “N- _No_! Ahaha, Kira - _stoooop_!”

Kira pulls back, smiling. “Sorry,” he whispers, but it’s only half genuine - it wasn't his intention to kill the mood, but Yamato’s laughter is so endearing that he can’t say he feels entirely remorseful. He lies back down, cuddling up to Yamato’s chest.

“Mm.” An acceptance of his apology goes unspoken in the air between them as Yamato brings a hand around the small of Kira’s back and draws him closer. Then, Kira realizes something.

“Yamato…” He sits up, eyes briefly flickering down to Yamato’s nether regions and, _yep_ , the peak in his boxers is still there. “Let me take care of you.”

A grin spreads across the blonde’s face; he clearly has no objections. Kira doesn’t miss the way his hips roll up towards the ceiling just a bit. “Hmm… How do you wanna do it?”

“However you want,” Kira responds, his mind a cacophony of lewd thoughts. He slides his hands along Yamato’s jaw, playfully swiping his thumb across the other man’s chapped lip.

“Hmm…” Yamato sits up, gaze crawling over the other man’s snowy-pale, much more slender frame. Kira is beautiful, so beautiful. But maybe there are certain parts of his body that aren't getting the attention they deserve. Parts that he hasn’t been properly appreciating, because he was too busy falling asleep right after sex. His mind flashes back to the last few moments they shared, how good Kira’s hands, lips, and tongue had felt on a place only he himself had ever touched, and a shudder of gratification courses through him. That’s when an idea strikes him - he makes eye contact, amber meeting gold, and Kira looks on in anticipation.

Yamato grins, moving closer and licking his lips cheekily. “Lift your arms above your head, Kira.”


End file.
